


Between Windsor and Portugal

by Sam_Nook



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 100wordsprompts, Chestnuts, Fire, Fluff, Friendship, Late birthday gift, Remembrance Day, Wine, a gift, can be seen as porteng, porteng, prompt was friendship, st. martins day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Nook/pseuds/Sam_Nook
Summary: It was worth it, though, especially on St. Martin's Day.
Relationships: England & Portugal (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Between Windsor and Portugal

**Author's Note:**

> Random prompt fifteen: friendship.
> 
> A late birthday gift for my friend Hiro.
> 
> England and Portugal have had the longest unbroken alliance in the world since the signing of the Treaty of Windsor in 1386.

The poppy tucked into the pocket of Arthur's black suit matched the red wine in the glass in his hands. It was cold outside, unusual for Portugal, and even standing next to the roaring fire didn't help chase the cold away. He frowned, his joints and shoulders aching. At least the wine had numbed away most of the migraine that Arthur had woken up with that morning. 

"Come on, Arthur," Henrique spoke as he observed Arthur from his spot crouched next to the fire, "smile, the chestnuts are almost ready."

Arthur frowned. He had wanted his feelings of negativity, or whatever he had, to stay hidden during the evening celebration of St. Martin's Day, but it seemed Henrique knew him too well. He didn't understand why he even tried; Henrique had centuries to figure out the inner workings that made up Arthur. He could barely tell a lie or fake a smile before Henrique was on him like a hound dog, a very loyal one too. Arthur didn't think it was very fair. 

Arthur owed Henrique the day, it had been in his calendar since last November, but with various remembrance day ceremonies and his own time spent remembering the boys that fought for him, it was pushed further back into the day until he could only spare the evening for Henrique's personal chestnut roasting and wine-tasting, especially as the remainder of the year would be busy in a hurry to get international and intranational duties done before Christmas. Not to mention, the holidays were jammed full of traveling to visit family and friends throughout the globe. Matthew wanted him in Canada with Alfred, Francis wanted him for a night in Paris, and even Hong Kong had invited him for a few days. Between his and Henrique's schedule, finding a day for the two of them was complicated, so every minute of this evening counted. It needed to, or Arthur would feel guilty about his busy schedule that didn't include nearly enough time for Henrique. 

It had been the two-hour flight from London to Porto that had metaphorically killed him, and he was surprised Henrique didn't order him straight to bed as soon as they arrived at Henrique's countryside home. 

"Relax, we'll go inside and watch a movie after these are done roasting, hm?" Henrique's smile was gentle as he stood. "You're tired; that's okay, Inglaterra. It's been a busy day for you." 

Oh, he wasn't a good friend, not nearly enough that Henrique deserved. 

Henrique playfully glared as Arthur tried to protest. It was a lost cause; he knew Arthur far too well. Instead of answering, Arthur sulkily glanced back at the wineglass in his hand and gulped down the rest of the remaining liquid. At least, he was warm now, even in his thin suit and coat. He watched as Henrique carefully moved the roasted chestnuts into a bowl as they waited for them to cool. 

The sun had set behind the trees in the distance, and the last few remaining rays of sunlight barely reached them through the branches. Above them, the sky was clear, surprisingly, after the previous few days of cloudy skies and rain. Henrique had joked and explained that the skies were clear because England was coming. The stars glittered above them, unchanging and bright even through the filtered smoke of the fire. 

Whatever this scene was, it was familiar with the bright stars, the smoky scent of fire, and Henrique. All they needed now was a boat and the ocean, but even Arthur could imagine the slow rocking of the waves and their gentle lapping as a natural lullaby. 

"You're smiling." Henrique was observant, his smile softening at Arthur's flustered cheeks. 

"I was thinking." He muttered in defense. 

Henrique's eyes seemed brighter in the firelight as he leaned forward, interested. "About me?" 

Arthur snorted. "As if you need an ego boost. I was thinking about the past, you know, sailing and fighting, and well anything really. We've spent years together; this night just seemed natural, I suppose. All we need is a boat, and it would be just like old times."

"Do you miss it?" 

"I suppose. I miss many things back then, but I don't think I could handle those things today. The constant wars, the empire, keeping track of who hated me, and why. Granted, that one was pretty easy; the whole world hated me at one point or another." 

"I never hated you." Henrique cut in; his gaze was sincere. 

"I highly doubt that even we've had our moments despite our long friendship. Sometimes I wonder if you've even forgiven me for what happened in Africa." 

Henrique laughed, "Arthur, I may have been mad, and I can assure you I was furious, but that doesn't mean I hated you. Anger is not a synonym for hate. You've been at my side far too long for me to hate you, you know the very worst and best of me, and that is something I don't want to be held against me. Besides, we've talked about Africa. It was a different time, and we were different people." 

Arthur's stance relaxed, and he shrugged. "Hardly. We're just older and crazier." 

"Well, if that means more happiness and peace, I don't mind being called old and crazy."

Arthur grinned. "Well noted, old man," he added as he dodged a chestnut. 

As the night grew cold enough that they couldn't ignore, they abandoned the last few embers of the fire, long reduced to coals, in favor of Henrique's sofa and an old film. The bowl of warm chestnuts and two more glasses filled with a sweet wine laid forgotten at their feet. 

Arthur considered himself to be very lucky. This relationship with Henrique, whatever they admitted it to be, was natural and seemed just as immortal as they were. These nights, bright and happy, had been few in the beginning and even more so as the world shifted in power and destruction. Even now, they were few with all the duties and schedules that required their attention. 

It was worth it, though, especially on St. Martin's Day. 


End file.
